Forging A Path of His Own
by katiexvi
Summary: Fred Weasley II has a lot to live up to. With such famous relatives, who wouldn't expect him to succeed? But Fred's Hogwarts experience is like nothing anyone ever expected.
1. Train Ride

Fred boarded the train with the casual confidence that was his father and uncle's legacy. As a Weasley, he had a lot to live up to, but he was determined to be as talented as all his uncles and aunts combined.

"Over here!" Louis Weasley called, beckoning to a train compartment. Fred smiled and started to move towards his cousin. Entering the compartment, she sat down next to Louis and across from Molly Weasley, both a year older than he.

"Excited for your first trip to Hogwarts?" asked Molly with a smile. She knew that Fred had been able to talk about nearly nothing else since school letters had arrived weeks prior.

"Remember how we acted, Mol?" laughed Louis. "Terrified about the Sorting every minute of the way."

Fred felt a little twinge somewhere in the region of his navel. He didn't know which House he wanted to be in. Not Hufflepuff, for sure. Hufflepuffs were nice people, and all, but Fred wanted to be someone more...interesting. And despite the family legacy- nearly all of his aunts and uncles had been in Gryffindor- being the same as everyone else had never been his style. Slytherins seemed like a shifty lot, and not the kind of crowd he wanted to associate with. Ravenclaw looked like the only available option, but Fred didn't know a single person in Ravenclaw that he could be friends with.

Molly and Louis talked in the background as Fred contemplated this. Suddenly, he stood up.

"I'm going to get something from the snack trolley," he announced.

"But she's sure to come by any minute!" protested Louis.

"Yeah, well...I just want to get some air."

"Oh. Okay then," Louis said with a shrug.

By then the door had already closed behind Fred's retreating form.

Fred leaned against the wall in the corridor and closed his eyes. He had come to Hogwarts with dreams of being talented, clever, and popular: the latest and best edition of the Weasley family. But now his doubts began to overwhelm his high hopes. How could he astonish everyone with his talent when he didn't even know what House he wanted to be in?

"Psst. Hey!" came a voice from somewhere to Fred's left. "What are you doing standing in the corridor like that?"

Fred opened his eyes and beheld another boy, about his height, with blond hair that he had cropped short. His eyes were alight with curiosity, or perhaps mischief, and he moved from foot to foot as if he couldn't bear to stand still.

"I mean, if you want to stand in the corridor that's your business and all, you just looked kinda..." His voice trailed off as if unable to find the word for how exactly Fred looked.

"My name's Corbin. Corbin Boot," he stated helpfully.

"I'm Fred Weasley," Fred supplied.

"Really? As in _the_ Weasleys? Our parents must have known each other. Mine were both in Dumbledore's Army back during the war. Terry Boot and Susan Bones."

"I've heard of them both. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, right?"

"Yep. You'll be a Gryffindor, I suppose?"

Fred shrugged noncommittally. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"That's true," Corbin nodded. "Can we go sit in a compartment? It's chilly out here."

Fred tried to cover his surprise at being invited anywhere. "Sure, yeah, it is kinda cold."

As they walked to Corbin's compartment at the back of the train, Fred felt himself stand a little taller. Maybe Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all.

Not ten minutes after the two sat down, the train lurched, coming to a screeching halt in what Fred assumed to be the Hogsmeade station. He leapt out of his seat, eyes alight. "Let's go, Corbin!" The two boys practically ran to the doors, pushing whomever they needed to get onto the platform.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way! All firs' years!" A deep voice boomed across the station, and both boys headed towards it.

"That must be Hagrid!" Fred said excitedly. "He's been the groundskeeper for ages."

Corbin didn't reply, instead grabbing Fred's arm and forging ahead to the front of the group. Two boys, obviously twins, glared at Fred and Corbin when they pushed past, and Fred shrugged a silent apology. They turned away as one, hostility pouring from their every movement.

"Who are those two?" he wondered aloud.

"Them? They're Owen and Ivor Avery. Nasty boys. I saw them in Flourish and Blott's, asking the manager for books about dangerous curses." He shook his head. "Bet they're wishing they'd been born twenty years ago, so they could be Death Eaters like their old man."

Fred and Corbin were quickly distracted by a booming shout. "Into th' boats, now! Quick, yeh don' wanna miss supper!" They jumped into the nearest boat, practically tipping it over in their enthusiasm. Behind them came a girl with strawberry blond hair, her school robes meticulously arranged and her eyes calmly watching Hagrid for further instructions.

Corbin openly stared, and only Fred had the presence of mind to introduce them.

"Hello! I'm Fred Weasley, and this here's Corbin Boot." He gave her his most winning smile. "What's your name?"

The girl looked at him rather stiffly. "I'm Lucy Abbott." She offered no further explanation, and sat with her hands in her lap and her back straight on the seat of the boat.

Fred bobbed his head affably, and all three faced forward as the boats began to move. They glided noiselessly across the lake, leaving not a ripple to show where they had been. The night had grown dark, and a light breeze skimmed across the surface, ruffling Fred's hair. Without any warning, the immense towers of Hogwarts castle appeared in front of them, and the gasps of the first years could be heard all around them. Lights flickered in all the windows, and it looked so very majestic and regal that Fred suddenly felt his eyes prickle, even though he hadn't cried since he was eight. He shook his head to clear it as the boats softly thumped against the dock closest to the huge doors to the castle.


	2. The Sorting

The first years made their way silently up the grassy slope, too awed to speak. Corbin gave a low whistle as the massive doors creaked open and Hagrid marched them into the Great Hall. The first years instinctively grouped closer together, and Fred imagined that they must look very small and scared to the older students.

As they were led past the long tables filled with students from different houses, Fred caught sight of several familiar faces. Louis and Molly waved happily at him from the Hufflepuff table, and Victoire smiled encouragingly from her place among the Gryffindor sixth years. He didn't see Dominique, Victoire and Louis' sister, but assumed that she was somewhere in the crowd of Slytherins on the other side of the room.

His breath caught in his throat. What if he were sorted into Slytherin? Uncle Bill had been very upset when Dominique was sorted there. He was only now getting used to the idea. Dommie had written Uncle Bill letter after letter, saying how she wanted to mend Slytherin's tarnished reputation, and that just because she was in Voldemort's house didn't mean she was a Dark witch. Fred knew that his own parents would never forgive him for being sorted into Slytherin. George and Angelina were staunch Gryffindors to the core, and he knew that they could barely stomach the idea of a son in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, let alone the house that had produced every Dark wizard and witch to date.

While he began to panic, the other first years had lined up in alphabetical order, and he rushed to find his place in line. He stood a few places behind James, his most famous cousin and Harry Potter's firstborn son.

"If I don't get into Gryffindor, I swear I'm going home," James muttered to Fred. "Dad said that if you ask for a particular house, the Sorting Hat will put you there."

Fred nodded politely. He and James had never been close, although he liked James' siblings, Albus and Lily. James was usually all right, but sometimes he had a tendency to be a little cocky, even arrogant. Supposedly, he was just like the grandfather he was named for. Fred had no doubt that James would be in Gryffindor. He was the bravest boy Fred knew, so brave that he was prone to taking reckless risks in the name of glory.

The Sorting Hat began to sing, but Fred was too far away to hear its words. Several Hufflepuff fourth years to his right were giggling in an extremely distracting way, and he tried to shuffle closer to be able to hear the lyrics. But James was too tall to see around. He saw Corbin near the head of the line, right behind the Avery twins from the station. He was doing his best impression of careless nonchalance.

"Abbott, Lucy!"

The girl from the boat's name rang throughout the hall, and Fred saw that the voice speaking belonged to a severe-looking woman in olive robes, whom he presumed to be Headmistress McGonagall.

Lucy marched to the front of the room. She sat primly on the chair, and the Sorting Hat was placed on her head. It took only a moment to decide before calling, "RAVENCLAW!" to the assembled students. There was a tumble of applause from the Ravenclaw table, and a smattering of polite claps from the other houses. Lucy went to her house table, looking slightly relieved.

"Avery, Ivor!"

Ivor strode to the small stool, seemingly unfazed by the eyes of hundreds of students on him. The had was still an inch above his head when it shrieked, "SLYTHERIN!" to Ivor's obvious satisfaction.

"Avery, Owen!"

Owen was slightly more reserved, and Fred could have sworn he looked a little green as he approached the recently vacated seat. He made eye contact with his brother before the Sorting Hat slipped over his head.

The hat took much longer to decide Owen's house. Just as the assembled students began to wonder what was happening, it piped up, "SLYTHERIN!" and Owen stumbled over to sit by Ivor.

"Boot, Corbin!"

Fred snapped to attention. He wanted to see what house his only new friend would be in. Corbin sat with some trepidation upon the stool, and the hat was lowered onto his head. It thought for several seconds.

_Please not Slytherin_, Fred thought. He didn't want Corbin to be in a house with the Avery twins.

"RAVENCLAW!" bawled the Sorting Hat. Corbin stood up with a grin and a wink, taking his place by Lucy Abbott.

Several more students were Sorted, and Gryffindor and Hufflepuff got their first students each, to great applause.

Finch-Fletchley, Maura was sorted into Hufflepuff. Goyle, Gordon was sorted into Ravenclaw, to the absolute astonishment of all assembled. Fred stopped paying attention as the line dwindled, focusing instead on his sweaty palms and the butterflies in his stomach.

"Potter, James!"

The Great Hall went silent, and several students stood up to get a better look at the son of the great Harry Potter. James swaggered up to the stool with great aplomb, but Fred could see the tension in his brow. James needn't have worried. The Sorting Hat had barely brushed the top of his messy black hair before it confidently called "GRYFFINDOR!" to the Hall. The students burst into applause, and even Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students clapped loudly. James took a seat at his house table, looking immensely relieved.

There were only a few students left to be sorted. Dean Thomas, Junior, a boy Fred had known growing up, became a Gryffindor. Finally, it was Fred's turn.

He walked to the Sorting Hat, hoping that he looked confident rather than terrified. He ignored the whispers around him about his parentage and family connections. He sat down, and the worn fabric of the Sorting Hat slipped over his ears. The smooth tones of its voice whispered to him, weighing his fate.

_Well, what have we here? Another Weasley? But different, different from the rest of your family. And clever, yes, very clever. Quite a prodigious amount of talent. A penchant for mischief as well, I remember that very well from your father and uncle. And yet your temper reminds me of your mother. I see only two possibilities. Which, though? Gryffindor or Ravenclaw?_

Fred tried not to think anything that would sway the Hat one way or another. He had no idea which house he would prefer, and since the Hat had so much experience in the matter of Sorting, perhaps it would do a better job than Fred could.

_Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw? It'll have to be... "_RAVENCLAW!"

These last words were said aloud, and the Hall was filled with surprised whispers. Two Gryffindor parents, but a son in Ravenclaw? It was not unheard of, but certainly unusual. Especially with a Weasley. Fred grinned happily that the whole thing was over. He walked to the Ravenclaw table and sat with a thump next to Corbin.


	3. A Mystery

Fred was the last of the first years to be Sorted, and as soon as he was seated the plates in front of him were filled with a fantastic array of different foods. He took a little of everything, enjoying the feeling of filling a stomach that had churned with nerves only moments before. He listened to the talk of the students around him as they spoke of their summer holidays and their expectations for the new year. He carefully catalogued information about the different speakers, reasoning that it might prove useful in the coming weeks and months. He learned, for instance, that Violetta, a fifth year, was hopelessly in love with the Ravenclaw Seeker, a seventh year. His ears filled with information and he chewed with satisfaction, mind already buzzing with different ways to turn his new knowledge to his advantage.

After the delicious and satisfying feast, a tall and whip-thin prefect stood up and called to the first years to follow him. Fred and Corbin talked excitedly, Fred sharing the information he had learned over the past hour. Corbin looked at him with some degree of awe.

"Wow, mate. Didn't know you were paying that much attention. You're a treasure trove of knowledge." His expression grew thoughtful. "We must be able to use this somehow."

Fred laughed. "It pays to pay attention in a family like mine. You never know what you'll pick up."

As they climbed a staircase that led up to Ravenclaw Tower, following the other first years, Fred suddenly stopped. He looked down the corridor to the left, cocking his head as if listening to something.

"Fred, what-?" Corbin began.

"Shh! Hold on a sec..."

Corbin shifted from foot to foot, looking nervously at the disappearing backs of the other Ravenclaws. "Fred, we're going to be late. We don't even know how to get to the Tower!"

Fred began walking briskly down the hallway, his shoes making no sound on the plush carpet. With one last, agonized look at the staircase, Corbin hurried to catch up.

"I heard something. It sounded like...a thump, or something," Fred was intent on his mission, stopping to listen at every door.

"You heard a thump. In a castle of hundreds of people. And you think it's important?" Corbin's voice cracked on the last syllable. "It's out first night here! We need to make some small effort to stay out of trouble."

"A little trouble never hurt anyone," Fred said absently.

He leaned in to listen at yet another keyhole, but as he did the door flew open, and Fred found himself staring into the coldest eyes he had ever seen.

"And why, might I ask, are two first years listening at keyholes in hallways?" said the slender woman who emerged from the mysterious room. She wore a black dress under her robes, and her skin was very, very pale.

"It seems to me," she continued, her voice like ice, "that you two should be running along, hmm?"

Without a word, Corbin and Fred turned and fled, only daring to look behind them once they had put two floors between themselves and the mysterious lady.

An hour later, thanks to three very unhelpful portraits and a vanishing staircase, the boys finally arrived at the entrance to Ravenclaw tower. It was a plain door at the top of a tightly winding staircase, bare except for a brass knocker in the shape of an eagle.

Corbin and Fred stopped in front of the door, somewhat unsure of how to proceed. Without warning, the eagle's beak opened.

"_I have a memory, but no mind. What am I?_"

Fred looked at Corbin, who bit his lip. "A...a snitch?" he ventured.

"_Very quick,_" the eagle said approvingly. "_You may enter_." The door swung open, revealing a room filled with squashy armchairs and bookshelves. Its carpet was a dark, midnight blue, and the walls were adorned with silver and bronze stars. In the foremost armchair sat the same prefect who had led the first years up to the dormitories. His angular features looked even sharper with the anger etched onto them.

"You do realize that lights-out was-" he checked his watch, "an hour and seven minutes ago?"

Fred began damage control. "Yes, and we would have been here, except we got stuck behind a group of Slytherins, and then Corbin here dropped his wand down a flight of stairs. We were unavoidably delayed!"

Corbin nodded enthusiastically to corroborate his friend's version of events. This creative interpretation of the evening's events came easily to Fred. He had been caught in all manner of mischief in his life, and this skinny prefect would be much easier to convince than his father.

He did indeed seem appeased by this version of events, though his lips remained pursed. "Well...just get up to your rooms and stay there."

The boys began to make their way to the stairs up to the bedrooms, but before they could get very far Fred poked his head back down the stairs to the common room. "Um...we don't know which room is ours."

The harried prefect sighed with exasperation and checked a list on the wall. "Fred Weasley, Corbin Boot...- Yes, you two are both in the top room. Just climb the stairs until you can't go up any farther."

Without further ado, Fred turned and scampered back up the stairs.

Their room was very comfortable, featuring four four-poster beds and windows all around the circular walls. Their trunks had already been brought up, and Corbin was half-undressed already, eager to get to bed. The two best beds had already been taken, and the hangings were closed tightly, presumably concealing their sleeping roommates. Corbin and Fred went to bed without speaking, so as not to awaken the other boys in their room.


	4. Good Morning!

The morning dawned bright and brisk, and Fred was up before any of his dorm-mates. He leapt around the room, getting ready for the day. Throwing his robes on, he walked over and tugged open Corbin's hangings.

"Corbin! Wake up! The day's a-waiting. It's time to get up!"

Corbin groaned and tried to pull the covers over his head, but Fred had a firm grip on them.

"You're a m-m-morning person, aren't you?" he asked gloomily, stifling a massive yawn. "Just my luck, to be friends with a cursed morning person."

"Ah ah ah!" Fred said playfully. "Language, young Corbin. Now get up!" He walked over to the little mirror on the wall and ran his fingers lazily through his hair, talking all the while. He talked about his favorite Quidditch team (Puddlemere United), and the classes he was most looking forward to (Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts), and even fell to discussing the finer points of his father's latest inventions. Corbin gave no response.

Fred walked over to his friend's bed. Corbin had fallen back asleep.

This time, Fred resorted to a more drastic method. Carefully drawing his wand, he created a stream of cold air to blow out the end, and then stuck it under the blankets. Corbin sat up with a yell and leapt out of bed, taking Fred down with him. The two wrestled on the ground, each trying to pin the other. Corbin was slightly more muscled, but Fred was faster; and he quickly had Corbin pinned down.

"Now will you wake up, you sod?" he asked, laughing.

As he spoke, the hangings on the other two beds were drawn open.

"What's all the fuss?" squeaked a boy who looked no older than eight. He fumbled to put on his glasses. "What time is it?"

Corbin referred to the small clock on the wall, which instead of numbers had little silver stars. "About 8:00, mate."

Fred, however, was much more interested in the other boy. Gordon Goyle was easily as ugly as his father, but he possessed a certain air of righteousness and entitlement that set Fred's teeth on edge. Gordon looked disdainfully upon the two disheveled boys and shook his head. "Good lord, I had no idea Ravenclaw would attract the sort of wizard I generally expect to find in Gryffindor."

Fred felt his face grow hot, and he found himself defending a House that wasn't even his. "You got something to say about Gryffindor?" he demanded.

"What a dazzling conclusion, Weasley- I assume you are the Weasley? Though I must say, you are harder to recognize without the red hair." His tone oozed scorn.

Fred unconsciously ran his hand through his dark, tightly curled hair, drawing his wand with the other hand. "Look, Goyle, I don't want any trouble. But I'll hex you from here till next Tuesday if you talk about my family like that."

Gordon didn't reply, but instead swept out of the room. "What a prat," Fred raged. "Did you hear what he said?" Corbin nodded sympathetically. "Thinks he owns the place, he does."

Fred knew he and his sister looked much more like their mother than their father. Fred's skin was the color of caramel, and his eyes and hair were as dark as midnight. Contrasted with the rest of his family, whose skin tones ranged from light to lighter, it was no wonder he attracted nearly as much attention at family reunions as his half-veela aunt.

Meanwhile, the skinny boy had started to pull on his robes. "My name's Pete Creevey," he said with a slight lisp. "I'm in Ravenclaw!"

Corbin and Fred just looked at him, and his eyes widened. "But you already knew that, of course!" He laughed feebly.

Corbin broke the silence first. "Let's all go down to breakfast, shall we?"

Pete nodded enthusiastically and began to bound out the door. Fred and Corbin shared a look before following him at a more sedate pace.

"We've certainly got the pick of roommates, haven't we?" Corbin said over breakfast.

Fred grunted, still stinging from Gordon's remarks. "What I don't understand," he seethed, "is how any son of Gregory Goyle made it into Ravenclaw. From what I hear, he has the I.Q. of of a troll. With a concussion."

"Good marriage," Corbin replied in between bites of ham. "Snagged himself one of the Nott sisters. They're evil, but the lot of them are as smart as goblins."

Fred was distracted from his ill humor by the arrival of the post. He searched the flood of owls for the distinctive rust-colored feathers that marked the family owl, Gertrude, and smiled when he saw her glide into the Great Hall.

She landed with a clatter on top of the bacon, nearly upsetting the syrup dish. Sticking her leg out, she helped herself to a bit of potato while Fred untied the letter around her foot. He ripped it open eagerly, seeing the familiar looping script of his mother's handwriting.

_Dear Fred,_

_Congratulations on your Sorting! We're so proud of you. Even your dad is pleased that you're forging your own path. You know how he is about individuality. Roxanne and the dogs are fine, although it sure is quiet around here without you to liven things up. Your father is moping about without a test subject for his experiments. I hope you enjoy your classes, and don't get in too much trouble._

_I'm going to send a package of sweets in the next few days, so be on the lookout! _

_All my love,_

_Mum_

There was a postscript written in Roxanne's childish scrawl, saying that she would take good care of Fred's broomstick while he was gone. Fred grinned, knowing that Roxanne was putting him on. He had hidden his broomstick in a place he knew no one would find it, and he had figured out how to put a few Disillusionment charms around it, even though he wasn't supposed to use his father's wand, ever.

Corbin caught Fred's attention and pointed to the ancient Head of Ravenclaw, professor Flitwitck, who was handing out schedules to the students. When he got his, Fred looked at it eagerly.

"Transfiguration first! Wicked. And then double Potions with the Gryffindors. That should be interesting. And then Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon." He nodded with satisfaction, pronouncing with finality, "Today is a good day!"

Corbin looked a little gloomy. "I was hoping for Charms today, or maybe History of Magic."

Fred made a noise of disgust. "You like History of Magic? You must be a little old man under that youthful exterior."

"It's all in the stories, mate! Battles, killings, Dark wizards...you'd be mad not to like it. I bet you only like making a ruckus with your wand, with no idea of the history behind a spell."

Fred grunted noncommittally. He had always been more of a loud-noise-and-smoke kind of boy, rather than a finesse-and-minutiae type. He preferred to rely on his intuition and try something new, rather than waste time with theory and practice. Fred was usually reasonably talented at most everything he tried, so this approach generally worked well. The boys spent the rest of breakfast debating the attributes of various racing brooms, and the time until their first class seemed to speed by.


	5. Classes

There was a sudden rush as the students marched off to their first class. Fred and Corbin followed Lucy Abbott, who was walking with such confidence that it was inconceivable that she didn't know where she was going. Sure enough, she led them straight to the Transfiguration room, a large classroom filled with rows of desks. They were the first three to get to class, and while Lucy staked out a place in the front row, Corbin and Fred decided to sit about three rows back, on the right side.

The next students to arrive were Ivor and Owen, who sat in the second row, right behind Lucy. When Gordon arrived, he sat next to Ivor, and the three boys nodded at each other coolly. Other Slytherin and Ravenclaw students trickled in, until finally there was only one seat left, right next to the drafty window. One last time, the door banged open. In stumbled little Pete, robes all askew, panting like he had just run a race. Right behind him came Professor McGonagall, who brushed past without so much as a glance and strode to the front of the room.

"Welcome to your first class at Hogwarts," said the Headmistress brusquely. "Now, before we start with any formal classwork, I want to see what you all can do already. Some have more of a natural flair for magic than others, but don't worry if you aren't one of those students. Sometimes the slowest learners are those who are most thorough in their work."

Instead of listening, Fred was watching the students around him. Lucy was sitting at the very edge of her seat, looking positively enthralled with the professor's words. Ivor and Owen were leaned back identically in their chairs, watching with carefully blank faces. Gordon had a calculating look in his eyes. Fred looked at him for a long time, trying to guess what he was thinking. A quick glance behind confirmed that Pete was looking panicked at the idea of trying magic so soon.

Fred wasn't worried about any of his classes. His father always said he had his mother's talent, and Angelina had been one of the top students in her year. Fred always put in the minimum effort required to do well, and let the rest take care of itself.

"Wands out, please!"

Fred snapped to attention and quickly drew his wand. Professor McGonagall was passing out a toothpick to each student, describing as she went the proper incantation to transform it into a sewing needle. Beside him, Corbin was listening intently, absentmindedly chewing on his lip. With a final, "You may begin!" wands began waving all over the classroom, and the air was filled with shouted, whispered, or chanted spells. Fred didn't make a move towards his toothpick, preferring to laugh at the chaos around him. One of the first years had managed to send her toothpick flying like a miniature spear right at Professor McGonagall, who froze it in midair and handed it back with raised eyebrows. The offending student looked like she would rather like to melt into her chair and never try magic again. Gordon had managed to create a thick and grainy-looking sort of needle, and of course Lucy was admiring her perfectly transformed sliver of silver.

Turning to his desk, Fred casually waved his wand and whispered the spell, and the toothpick obediently became metallic and shiny. He smiled with some satisfaction.

"How'd you do that so quickly?" Corbin asked in disbelief. He had managed to mangle three toothpicks, and was waving his wand ineffectually at his fourth.

"You have to _want_ it," Fred explained. "Look at the wood and see it turning into metal."

Corbin tried again, face screwed up in concentration. Finally, after a few seconds of stubborn intransigence, the toothpick became a needle, giving a reluctant sort of wiggle as it did so.

"Exactly!" Fred pronounced. Just as he said this, from behind them came a horrendous bang, and then the acrid smell of charred hair. Pete had blasted a hole in his desk, rendering his toothpick so much charred ash. His eyebrows and bangs were completely black, and he was standing perfectly still, as if in shock.

"It's all right, nothing to worry about," the professor reassured the class as she Vanished Pete's desk and brushed the soot out of his hair. "Are you all right, young man?"

Pete nodded an abashed yes and sat down tentatively. A cruel laugh came from behind Fred, and he turned to see Gordon and Ivor snickering.

"I think that's enough for today," announced Professor McGonagall. "For homework I want you all to read the first two chapters of your textbook and write a four-inch summary. Class dismissed."

As the class packed up their things, Fred elbowed Corbin. "Hey, check this out."

He quietly pointed his wand at Gordon, who was slinging his bag over his shoulder. Furrowing his brow, he murmured, "Diffindo!"

Gordon's bag disintegrated, spilling books, ink, and quills everywhere. Fred turned and quickly walked away, tugging Corbin behind him. As soon as they left the classroom, they dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. "Did you...did you see his face?" Corbin snorted.

"Not so aristocratic now, is he?" Fred grinned with wicked delight.

"Where'd you learn so much magic?" Corbin asked. "Seems like you already know a lot."

"I picked it up here and there. My dad never was one for rules, so sometimes he let me practice spells with his wand. But mostly I practiced when he wasn't paying attention."

"Wow. My parents would kill me if I tried to use one of their wands."

"Yeah, my mum was never keen on it. You should have seen her face when I changed her slippers from red to pink with polka dots."

"I bet it was almost as good as ol' Gregory's face when you wrecked his bag!" Corbin burst into laughter, and Fred followed suit. They were both still giggling when they entered the Potions room several minutes later.


End file.
